


Oot on the Branch, the Fruit is Gey Ripe

by songquake



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-04
Updated: 2011-06-04
Packaged: 2017-10-20 02:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/208044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/songquake/pseuds/songquake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione could have done anything, had anyone; she is the smartest witch of her age, a war hero, and attractive. So when she comes back to Hogwarts and takes over the Library from Madame Pince, Minerva is concerned. She tries to figure out the reason the girl has withdrawn into the cloisters of the Hogwarts Library, seeking to draw her out, and is drawn in herself instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oot on the Branch, the Fruit is Gey Ripe

**Author's Note:**

> *AU in that Dumbledore never died, though the majority of Deathly Hallows (sans epilogue) did. Mostly because I didn't want to create a new Headmaster or Headmistress. ->Lazy author. Also, EWE.  
> *The title is a phrase that means, "No risk, no reward." It, plus words such as "fesh" (fuss) and "ken" (understand), and a few other Scottish phrases, were gleaned from [Scottish Journey](http://www.scottishjourney.com/scottish_phrases). Apologies for any misrepresentation of the Scottish tongue; it's my fault, not my betas'.  
> *My betas, scarletladyy and wwmrsweasleydo, you are my angels and I love you.

  
_  
**  
From the Personal Diary of Minerva C. McGonagall    
**   
_   


  


>   
> 
> 
> _4th August, 2006_
> 
>  _It's still rather queer for me when Albus takes on a former student for a staff position. It's inevitable; the majority of the UK's talented wizards and witches come through Hogwarts. But it wasn't quite so strange when Aurora and Rolanda joined – I had been at Hogwarts with them, but since they were several years younger, they'd learned to respect me as Head Girl before I returned to teach. And they immediately felt more like peers._
> 
>  _In fact, the last time I was so unsettled was when Albus, in a fit of magnanimous forgiveness after the First War, offered Severus asylum in the form of the Potions appointment. Not even twenty-one, and let loose on the children!_
> 
>  _But that was then. Water long under my ramshackle bridge, as it were._
> 
>  _ ~~Ms Granger~~ H.G. has taken up Irma's old position, and that's certainly a boon for us. She'll almost certainly be kinder to the children than Irma was, and at least as organised. Albus claims she has some 'fascinating' and 'revolutionary' ideas about reorganising the library and its collection._
> 
>  _I am curious, though, as to why she would desire to become a librarian here at Hogwarts. Certainly, the access to research materials is unparalleled, but she has returned to do research several times in the period since her NEWT's. Hogwarts is hardly the place for a young lady to begin building a life._
> 
>  _Well, we'll see what it's about. I've invited our ~~young~~ librarian to afternoon tea tomorrow._

  


~*~

At precisely three o'clock, the portrait guarding Minerva's quarters announced the arrival of 'Madame Hermione Granger.'

"Let her in, Aine. _Mouse tail_."

Swinging open, the portrait hole revealed a young woman in robes as prim and conservative as one could buy without seeming to come from an earlier decade. Or century. Her hair was done up in a ponytail, the curls gathered into a luxurious pillow behind her head.

She looked terribly nervous for some reason and was trying to hide it by tightly clutching a small potted plant in front of her. The plant seemed somehow familiar. Perhaps Minerva had seen one on one of those rare occasions of visiting Pomona in the greenhouses. The purple flowers were awfully pretty and carried a very mild scent of mint. Minerva's nose twitched as she took in the odour.

"Hi, Professor McGonagall," Hermione said.

"Minerva," Minerva corrected as Hermione crossed the threshold. "I'm no longer your professor. Do call me Minerva, Miss...Hermione." Minerva chuckled, feeling a bit sheepish.

Hermione echoed the chuckle. "I suppose it will take awhile for all of us to acclimatise to being colleagues. Oh, and before I forget –" she said as she presented the odd plant.

Minerva accepted it, looked at it. "Thank you, but you truly didn't need to carry a gift. It's just tea." _And_ , Minerva thought, taking in the striking businesslike beauty of the woman before her, _perhaps the first of many visits you will make to my quarters._

Hermione huffed, though she blushed as she did. "My parents taught me better than that," she asserted. "Manners. One should always bring a gift when visiting someone's home for the first time, especially if the visit is for a meal. And as I don't know what sort of wine or tea you favour," she shrugged, gesturing to the plant Minerva had just lain alongside the tea service on the sitting room's table, "I thought you would appreciate this."

Minerva smiled, charmed by the younger woman's awkwardness. _It's good to see she's not all brash intellect and preternatural self-possession. One would never guess from her comportment in public._ "I must admit that, while it is lovely," she indicated the blossoms, "I don't quite recognise it. Is it Muggle?" she asked, hoping she wasn't making a fool of herself.

"You _don't_?" Hermione asked, her face betraying something akin to shock.

"No. I was pants at Herbology. Now you know my secret." Minerva took a steadying breath to tamp down her defensiveness.

"I beg your pardon. I didn't mean to offend," Hermione said softly, scuffing her shoe a bit on the floor. "It _is_ Muggle, but a great many wizarding folk use it as well."

"What is it, then?" Minerva asked, nodding.

Hermione looked directly at Minerva and her eyes took on a calculating, mischievous look. "Hm. I reckon you'll figure it out eventually." She smiled with deviant innocence, the sort of expression teenagers were particularly adept at. Minerva wondered that the other woman had not put that smile away with other childish things. Then again, she'd not had much of an adolescence to speak of.

"You won't tell me? What if I were allergic?" Minerva protested.

Hermione snorted, _snorted_ at her! "If it were something you knew you were allergic to, you would have recognised the plant. Besides, I've heard certain rumours... I'm certain you'll sort it out."

Minerva glanced again at the plant. It lacked the five-pronged leaf of cannabis, so she surely did not know what sort of 'rumours' Hermione could be referencing.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're impudent?" she muttered as Hermione sat before the plant whilst she played Mother. Raising her voice, she asked, "How do you take your tea, dear?"

"Milk only."

"A woman after my own heart," Minerva commented as she served up two cups of Lady Grey with moderate splashes of milk. She sat. "Help yourself to some sandwiches or pastries. The elves have provided quite the bounty for us today."

She caught Hermione trying not to wrinkle her nose and remembered the fruitless crusade her former student had started to bring freedom to the Hogwarts house-elves. Which reminded her of a question she had been meaning to ask.

"Hermione, why _did_ you decide to leave the Department for Relations with Magical Creatures? You seemed to be making such a difference there."

"Mm." Hermione raised a finger as she swallowed her mouthful of scone and cream. "I made much less headway than it might have seemed, certainly less than I'd hoped. Mostly there were surface changes – like changing the Department's name – but there's not been much movement at all in cultural attitudes." She paused, taking another sip of tea. "It was frustrating, hitting the same brick walls over and over."

Minerva examined the other woman's face, her posture. Something about the explanation seemed a bit off, a bit _too_ rehearsed. "And that's all?" she inquired. "But why take on this position? It can hardly be challenging for a witch of your intellect."

 _Is she blushing? Is it from being caught out, or something else?_

"Well, there is that, but I need some time to regroup, do a bit of my own research that has gone neglected, and, well, you _must_ remember my love affair with books."

Minerva acknowledged that she did with a crisp nod.

"I honestly do want to influence the children, the teens to love and cherish books as well, to see them as friends, as _intimate_ friends, rather than as adversaries. To see the library and its librarian as less adversarial. To nurture their curiosity and their awe by showing how many answers – and stories – they can find and yet still be able to imagine new things, think in new ways."

"You do have the mind of an educator about you," Minerva commented. "Those are ambitious goals."

"I hope the Headmaster might allow me to teach the first- and second-years by House next year. Not yet, of course; not until I've got my bearings and established my authority among the current lot of students. But I can't believe that Wizarding primary schools don't teach library skills at all to the children."

"No," conceded her colleague. "It would be nearly useless, don't you think? Libraries generally don't hold texts that are at the reading levels of primary school students."

Hermione snorted, _again_ , and said, "You do realise that Muggle primary and secondary schools both have their own libraries and secondary students receive library _lessons_ , don't you?"

"No, I didn't, quite," Minerva confessed, shocked. "I, ah, attended Hogwarts before Albus established Muggle Studies as part of the curriculum."

" _Well,_ " said Hermione, peering across the table as if she were wearing spectacles and trying to indicate a librarian's disapproval as Irma had done, "I think it's high time for Wizarding libraries to start stocking child-appropriate volumes. It's not as though they couldn't expand the spaces to accommodate the books."

"Why does this seem so critical to you? Hogwarts students have done well enough for the many centuries they've been encountering this library first."

Hermione sighed with a touch of exasperation. "Being in a Muggle mixed library meant that children learned library manners _early_. We could browse through a good number of books to see what might be interesting, and in the process come across many titles we wouldn't have otherwise seen. We could read books without our parents having to buy them. It also meant that the librarians could guide us on finding books appropriate for our age, assignments, interests, and intelligence. I started being directed to adult-level nonfiction by the time I was nine."

"Swot," Minerva said fondly.

"As if you weren't, Minerva McGonagall?"

" _Touché_ , Hermione Granger." Minerva tried her damndest to conceal the shiver she'd felt in her back when Hermione had addressed her by her full name. This was certainly inconvenient; there had never been any indication, at Hogwarts or since, that Hermione had any interest in women, even the swottiest. Minerva decided to redirect the conversation, get a firm reminder that Hermione Granger, attractive as she was, was _not_ available for Hogwarts' resident 'spinster' to court.

"Might I inquire what happened with you and Mr Weasley?"

"You might," replied Hermione, her eyes narrowed and expression guarded.

"Well, what _did_ happen? Seeing the two of you at Hogwarts, and after the Final Battle, I was certain you'd be married and supporting the lot of them – Ronald, Harry, Ginevra, and any offspring – by now."

That drew a wary, weary chuckle. "Let's just say that Ronald and I weren't as well-matched as we'd thought."

And from there, the conversation devolved into pleasantries.

~*~

  


> _I've been thinking more and more about H., about that odd conversation we shared just after she arrived. She is a bonny young lass, and has a wit nearly to match Severus'. Certainly to match mine. Not to mention that we can each teach each other things – it's been so long since I've met a woman whose knowledge differed much from my own and yet interested me._
> 
>  _But still there's no sign she sees me as anything but a friend, and even friendship is hard for me to claim._
> 
>  _I've not seen much of her since that one afternoon._
> 
>  _I believe she only leaves the library to eat and sleep. Irma did the same. I can't help but worry that the library might have some strange power to enthral its keepers._
> 
>  _That's silly paranoia, isn't it! Just because I've not seen as much of H.G. as I would like does not mean that she's under the influence of something nefarious. And she's a smart girl – she can take care of herself._
> 
>  _But that doesn't mean I can't have a standing weekly tea with her..._

  


~*~

"He wants me to start instructing all years. Immediately!" Hermione exclaimed as she fairly _flounced_ into the chair beside Minerva's at breakfast.

"Congratulations, Hermione. That's excellent news, both for you and for the children."

Hermione, however, was visibly disturbed. One might even call her usually unflappable self 'upset'.

"I'm not _ready_ , Minerva! This wasn't the _plan_!"

Minerva had never seen Hermione Granger so high-strung as a student, though she could well imagine what a nuisance she was to her peers when OWL's and NEWT's came along. She glanced sideways at her young colleague. "Can you not introduce the children to proper library etiquette and to how the Hogwarts library is organised? I know they arrive tomorrow, but surely you can write lesson plans to teach them that much before your first classes start."

"But the library's _not_ organised, not in any discernible way. Yes, the volumes are largely grouped by topic and sometimes even by subtopic, but beyond that there seems to be neither rhyme nor reason! What was Madame Pince _thinking_?" Hermione drummed her fingers on the table in frustration; the silverware and cups of tea danced a bit in response.

"Most likely that a good search would expose students to a greater variety of information than something easy like alphabetical order would. Also that it would keep students a bit more reliant on her expertise."

"The _cow_ ," Hermione said bitterly. "Instead she convinced generations of Hogwarts students that libraries are too intricate to bother learning to navigate. And I suppose that this desire to be the Keepers of Knowledge is why librarians in the Wizarding world have never settled on a standard for organisation?"

"Ah, so you _have_ picked up some sense of magical culture whilst at the Ministry of Magic!"

Hermione threw her hands up. "This still doesn't help me instruct students in three days' time."

"How often will you have to teach them?" Minerva asked.

"Once a week. Throughout three days, as I requested the Houses be split up. That's twenty-eight blocks."

"Oh, tell Albus you'll just take them two at a time. At least then you'll only have fourteen. Or a whole year at once, though that's usually ill-advised. Yes, yes. Speak to Albus, let him know not only that this amount of teaching will distract you and the students from utilising the library, but that you haven't enough time or energy to create curricula in two days, and request whether you might begin lessons in the second week of term. By then at least some of the classes will have assignments that would be helped by research," Minerva suggested, a self-satisfied expression stealing over her face.

"Do you think I might be permitted to teach a few spells?"

"I don't see why not – for the children to use in research?"

"Yes, but also to keep down the roar when they are assigned group work or have independent study groups."

"Confirm it with Albus, of course, but those certainly sound like useful spells in a magical education."

"And I can set essays about the spells." Hermione nodded in satisfaction.

 _She would be one to relish her license to give homework,_ Minerva thought.

"I ought to get on this right away." Hermione rose to leave.

Minerva glared. "Sit _down_ , silly girl. You'll waste away and, worse, starve your brain if you keep skipping meals."

Hermione sat but protested, "I can find a bite in the kitchens any time I want." She began to serve herself kippers, eggs, toast, fruit, and a steaming cup of coffee.

Minerva raised an eyebrow at the protest, given the volume of food collecting on Hermione's plate. "Och, but _do_ you?"

The other woman's shoulders slumped a bit. "No, I suppose not. Or not enough."

~*~

  


> _The students have arrived, and in tending to start-of-term duties I haven't had much time to see how H.G. is faring. And yet, I find myself considering her in my spare time. What keeps her cloistered so?_
> 
>  _Once again I observe that the wean seem to be coming smaller and younger every year. This year's crop of Gryffindors, at least, makes those Creevey boys seem like giants. Bless their souls._

  


~*~

The night before Hermione was to teach her first lessons, Minerva came to the Hogwarts library with an elf-provided assortment of food and drink floating behind her. Her young colleague had not been seen all weekend.

 _The doors were locked and warded. A simple " _Alohomora_ " would be terribly ineffective. Rolling her eyes, Minerva conjured her Patronus and sent the cat to notify the paranoid librarian of her arrival._

 _Och, she's as bonny as ever!_ Minerva thought, mentally slipping into her childhood tongue. _I am too far gone for this lass._

Hermione still wore robes almost worthy of a Muggle convent, but had rucked up her sleeves so that her forearms, smudged with ancient dust, were exposed. Her wand rested in her hand, as comfortable as one of those Muggle pencils Charity Burbage had always insisted her students use for class. Her eyes were bright, her cheeks flushed, and her hair framed her face in wild strands where they'd burst free of Hermione's chignon.

Had Minerva believed in angels, surely they would look like this.

"Minerva!" Hermione sounded more than a little surprised to see her standing there.

"Hermione." Minerva smiled. "You look like you've had some fun in there."

Hermione responded with an almost giddy giggle. "Experimental magic is usually fun," she confided. Her mischievous smile was back, her eyes sparkling to rival Albus' twinkling.

"You plan to experiment on the children? All of them, or just the ones who annoy you?" Minerva asked, a smirk playing on her lips.

Hermione laughed. Not just chortled or giggled, but _laughed_ , the freedom of it making the tightly-bound chuckles Minerva had lately heard seem like joy imprisoned by propriety rather than genuine expressions of humour.

Minerva wanted to hear this laugh more often. "I gather you intend to risk them all, then," she said, hoping to provoke some more.

But Hermione was catching her breath. "You misunderstand, though I'm sure the time will come when I'll be seeking your assistance in such trials. No," she blurted as one last laugh bubbled up from her diaphragm, "I've been working on a modification of one of my research spells, to help the children along until I've got this place properly organised."

" _Really_ ," Minerva said, her curiosity piqued. "Might I be permitted a preview?"

"Of course!" Hermione exclaimed, and in her excitement took Minerva's hand and dashed into the library, the older woman stumbling behind her.

Minerva felt the beginnings of desire, _reciprocated_ desire, stir in her belly. When Hermione finally stopped, Minerva passed her and jerked her hand, twirling her close as if dancing. Wrapping her other arm around Hermione's waist, Minerva raised the hand that joined them and kissed it.

Hermione stiffened. Then she broke away.

"Professor," she started, but Minerva glared at her. "Minerva. I, ah, I'm terribly sorry if I gave the impression of being, er... interested in...."

 _Bugger. This is what Gryffindor impulsiveness gets you, Minerva._

"Interested in me? Interested in women? Interested in _anything_ outside this library?" Minerva couldn't help it; her tone became increasingly strident of its own accord.

Hermione took a slow, shuddering breath, all fun gone from her expression. "I am interested in things outside this library," she said quietly. "And I'm... I'm interested in you, in some ways. But I'm _not_ interested in dating women."

"I am sorry to have misinterpreted your actions, then," Minerva said rather stiffly, "and for my obviously unwelcome advances."

Hermione looked at her, her brown eyes shining with tears now.

"If -- Oh bugger it, Hermione. If you no longer want to share this experiment with me, or you don't want to explore friendship, tell me and I'll be gone." Minerva began to rebuild her armour of a stern and professional demeanour, bracing herself to leave the library rejected as a lover and a friend.

"No!" Hermione rushed to speak. "No, Minerva, I very much want to show off what I've been working on, and you're the only one who's shown interest in my work or, really, anything about me, since I've arrived." She looked down, awkwardness suffusing her expression and posture. "If you want to see it, anyway."

Minerva looked at the young librarian; she seemed more dejected than should be called for given that _she_ wasn't the one whose advances were spurned. _Sharing this with someone who can appreciate it must mean the world to her._

"Oh, I do," Minerva conceded, and watched Hermione's face take on a bit more life. "Frankly, you've got me unbearably curious. And while curiosity may kill the cat, it does not kill the cat Animagus' human form."

Hermione gave a weak chuckle and glanced sideways at her companion, seeming to consider her response. But she must have decided that there was no more clever way to say what she meant: "Alright, then."

She led Minerva to a lectern with a small step near it – clearly available should one of the smaller students need to look at a book on it. Hanging from a pulley Hermione had rigged from the beams at the ceiling (and how she'd managed that, Minerva did not even want to know) was a fairly large basket.

"When I left Hogwarts for uni, I found that, like this one, the university's library was a shambles. It was near impossible to find anything.

"But I'm a witch, right? I thought I could use magic to solve this problem. So one afternoon, whilst researching the separation of the Centaurs from Wizard-kind, I tried _Accio_."

Minerva winced. She'd tried the same sort of technique as a Transfigurations student and got several goose eggs for her trouble as the books flew at her. "Were you injured?"

Hermione smiled, though a bit grimly. "Thank you for asking. Yes. I was concussed, and ended up at the uni's infirmary. And in that overnight, I spent a good deal of time thinking about how to improve my method of finding not just books, but the right _sort_ of books." She paused. "And literature beyond just bound volumes. I needed to find or create an incantation that would gather the proper resources without, as they say, clobbering me."

"And what did you come up with?" asked Minerva, who had not heard of any witch or wizard's success in refining the blunt instrument of _Accio_.

"Well, first I came up with ' _Omnes literis de hac chria porto me_. And I would state the topic I wanted to research first, and in the language I wanted to read."

Minerva was still intrigued, but raised an eyebrow. "That's clever, but does not solve the flying book problem." She glanced up. Suddenly the hanging basket made some sense.

"Indeed, and yes, the basket was my solution. But when I added the indirect object, both the incantation and the ability to use English as the topic's language failed. Fortunately, my Latin is good enough that, given an adequate dictionary, I could translate the topics into Latin and _put_ my books in the basket."

"I see where this would be an issue for many of our students."

"Yes; from what I remember, the children of the Old Families tended to know a fair bit of Latin, and a few swots like myself were studying independently, but the majority of the students just memorise the incantations they're taught rather than understanding what the actual Latin means."

"Lamentable."

"You can raise the issue with Albus," Hermione returned. " _My_ interest this past week has been creating a way to make the spell work without teaching all the children how to translate on my own."

"Of course," murmured Minerva.

"The solution actually came to me when I was remembering the utter nuttiness of my fourth year and the Tri-Wizard Tournament. A _Portkey_. Not that I use a Portkey in here, mind, but the theory behind it. Basically, a Portkey is an object onto which the power of Apparition has been charmed. The actual verb is different – _Portus_ instead of _Apparate_ \-- but the effect is the same. So I began to experiment with ways to use objects, or charm objects, to make the research endeavour simpler for the students."

"And?"

"It's finally perfected! I got it to work several times in a row in the hour before you sent your Patronus. By the way, is there anything about you that doesn't translate to 'cat'?"

In deference to Hermione's previous rebuff, Minerva held her tongue.

"Anyway," Hermione prattled on, "what the children can do is stand at this lectern, write out the topic they wish to research, and tap the parchment as they recite the incantation. Which I shall translate for them. The appropriate texts will fly off the shelves as per usual, but they shall be gathered in the basket." She beamed, impressed with her own cleverness.

Minerva was impressed, too.

"Do you want to try, Minerva?" Hermione asked, her voice dropping shyly as she spoke the name.

Minerva's nod was brisk. _Of course I do. Don't be ridiculous._ She stepped up to the lectern. Seeing a parchment and quill already there, she wrote out ' Dietary habits of Boggarts'.

"Really, Minerva? You want to know about the dietary habits of Boggarts?"

"Better their dietary habits than their mating ones," she returned with a smirk.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Fine, then. The incantation is ' _Pono omnes literis de hac chria in hoc cophino_ ' And you must tap the words on your parchment twice at the words ' _hac chria_ to specify the topic of interest."

"But not the basket?"

"No, not the basket. There's only one basket in this library."

Minerva nodded again, this time thoughtfully. _Her magical theory is certainly sound._

She followed the steps Hermione had outlined and two books came soaring from the stacks and into the basket. "Excellent!" she exclaimed.

But Hermione frowned. "I forgot to set the override for the Restricted Section. I was certain we had more books on that topic, and they must be in there. Boggart husbandry has _got_ to be a Dark Art, hasn't it?"

"Mind out of the gutter, Madame Granger! I was seeking the _dietary_ , not _mating_ habits, remember?"

The embarrassment stained Hermione's cheeks an attractively deep pink. "Yes, Professor." She caught her own self that time, rolled her eyes and corrected: "That is, yes, Minerva."

 _For the love of Merlin, I hope this awkwardness doesn't last long._

~*~

  


> _Of course it was too much for me to write about when the incident was fresh; having one's romantic aspirations Avada'd isn't one of those things that processes easily into language._
> 
>  _But I thought for sure I had picked something up. Long, searching stares, smiles and ducks, flouncing around... It is possible, I suppose, that I confused youthful exuberance for flirtation, but that seems unlikely. She was opening like a flower before me, and now the blossom has shut. Oh, Minerva, look at what you've written. Tired clichés and maudlin prose._
> 
>  _In any event, whilst not writing about my feelings last night, I discovered what the plant she gave me last month was..._
> 
>   
> 

  


~*~

" _Catnip_ , Hermione?" Minerva asked pointedly at breakfast the next morning.

Hermione donned that deviant-yet-innocent look again. "Did you like it? I must say, I'm surprised that last night was the first time you transformed in over a month."

"The first time I transformed _in my quarters_ , rather. I'm not in the habit of becoming a cat for fun; the ability is a teaching device and a reconnaissance tool."

"And last night?" Hermione pressed.

Minerva sighed. "It also calms me. Unless, that is, I come across some nice, fresh, _catnip_."

Hermione winced, though whether it was at the memory of why Minerva might want some calming or the realisation that her gift had undermined Minerva's technique was far from apparent.

"I thought you would appreciate it, both as a human who might like to look at it and as a cat who...."

"Might like to get high?" Minerva asked sweetly. "I just hope that I don't have any flashbacks to kitty hallucinations during lessons."

 _That_ comment caused Hermione to pale, which showed Minerva that she'd stepped over the line.

"Oh, Hermione, dinnae fesh yersel'. I was mostly teasing, you realise."

Hermione let out a nervous laugh, not nearly as free and happy as the night before. "Right. Sorry, then. My humour's not the best this morning."

"Nor is mine." The older witch paused briefly. "And I do appreciate the gift. It was truly inspired, and a lovely thing to bring the first time you visited my home. It shows a good deal of thoughtfulness. Thank you."

"You're welcome," and for the first time that morning, Hermione looked a bit less tense.

Minerva decided to continue the conversation as she would have had the prior evening's delicate event not taken place. "Are you excited about your first lessons? What will you be teaching today?"

"Yes, though a bit apprehensive. Only none of the students did go to school with me, so that's not going to be a problem. Appearing as an adult, that is. And today is about decorum, quiet bubbles and what of our collection is typically useful for students in each year."

"It will be a smart thing, you teaching the children about how to use the library well. When will you introduce the parchment-spell?"

"I'm calling the spell, when used with the device, a Ponokey."

"Emphasising the relation to a Portkey?"

"Exactly, even though the use of the paper and lectern is just to make the experience more dramatic." Hermione smirked. "And to prevent inappropriate use of it outside the library. I shall have to warn the bookshops, though; the spell could certainly be used there, and the last thing most of them need is multiple customers casting at the same time."

"Hence the lectern."

"You always did seem the brightest of my Professors, Minerva. You and Professor Snape, though you were certainly a better communicator." Hermione looked up and met Minerva's eyes. They were so small, and behind slightly crooked glasses, that it was difficult for most people to imagine how they managed to see _everything_. And even fewer examined them long enough to see how they were golden-green, with pupils that sometimes narrowed to slits.

Minerva hoped that one day Hermione would notice the distinctiveness of her eyes, of her other attributes, as she noticed her skill in communication. She hoped that a way might open.

For Minerva McGonagall seemed to have quite the crush, and was less than fully convinced it wasn't reciprocated.

~*~

  


> _Every year, it seems, I get a bit slower, a bit less spry of body and mind. Or should I say, 'it seemed'. It is odd – for all the time that she spends in the library, avoiding all contact outside it, H.G. seems to have brought me back to life. Perhaps. Her perspectives are certainly new; I hadn't realised how tired I was of hearing Filius, Horace, and Aurora go on and on about their pet interests and the glory of years past and students past._
> 
>  _If I ever have to hear Horace mention Harry Potter again, it will be too soon._
> 
>  _Merlin, I miss Severus in the staff room, when he deigned to join us. It was so much easier to mock them all when I had a partner in crime – someone who shared that bit of dry, acerbic wit. And of course such habits would not reflect well upon me, but I always did love acting a bit subversive. Or as subversive as one can be with Albus Dumbledore as an employer._
> 
>  _I had hoped H.G. might be an adequate companion for such things._
> 
>  _But I've not yet had time to learn all the ins and outs of H.G.'s mind, nor does she share all of it all the time. In fact, though we take afternoon tea together on non-Hogsmeade Saturdays (in either my quarters or hers), I dare say we haven't even scratched the surface of our souls._
> 
>  _"Oot on the branch, the fruit is gey ripe," for sure. But this branch be fair to the ground. Och! One would never guess that we'd both been Sorted into Gryffindor._
> 
>  _She seems troubled even on the surface. I'm sure she stays up late nearly every night, and more than once I've walked in during rounds to find her slumped over the lectern, fast asleep. It worries me. She's losing weight, too._
> 
>  _I should leave well enough alone; she hasn't indicated that she wants to share anything about this habit with me. I am a notorious busybody, however; I've a reputation to maintain! I asked why she must stay so late, and she responded, "Research." She refused to elaborate on the type of research, however, claiming it was just to satisfy her own curiosity, and I shouldn't worry myself about it._
> 
>  _She once spoke of her love affair with books. At this point, I think she's crossed the line to obsession._
> 
>   
> 

  


~*~

"Might I request a favour of everyone?" Hermione asked those colleagues gathered in the staff room, itself unusually full.

The room stilled. Despite it being the first night of the winter holiday, very few Professors had spoken more than a cheerful greeting or a bit of very idle small talk with Hermione Granger. To have the young librarian, a relatively recent _student_ of most of them, address the group was cause to sit up and take notice.

"Some of you know that, in addition to my instructional and curatorial duties in the Hogwarts library, I have been pursuing some informal, independent research of my own – a pet project, if you will."

 _Informal, my foot! I've seen the colour-coded index cards and inks at your desk!_ Minerva thought as the rest of the staff stifled their groans, wary that Young Miss Granger, never the most _succinct_ of students, might now embark on some lengthy discourse regarding her current academic passions.

Hermione continued. "I've thoroughly searched the main Hogwarts library regarding these interests and, over the past four and a half months, have exhausted its resources."

Her still-rapt audience, relieved that she'd not yet launched into an hours-long explanation of her pet project, nodded and hummed their commiseration. Extensive as Hogwarts' collection was, it was rarely sufficient for the serious scholar.

"So, er, I was hoping to prevail upon you, my colleagues," Hermione's face had grown pink as she compared herself to her former teachers, "to allow me access to your personal libraries. Often scholars of your calibre own esoteric or rare texts on a variety of disciplines. Since my research is, ah, inter-disciplinary, help from any of you would be most welcome."

The gathering greeted her request with a chorus of affirmations; of _course_ they would all do what they could to assist an up-and-coming scholar.

Minerva smiled in satisfaction. Perhaps now she would learn what topic of study was so engrossing that it had wrought such a change in this intriguing witch.

~*~

  


> _H.G. has gone researching in the studies of Filius, Horace, Poppy, even Sibyl, for Merlin's sake. And yet she's still not been in to search the collection of the only one on staff to call her 'friend'._
> 
>  _I'm trying to decide whether to be insulted, or whether to let it go for the minute and offer up my library for her perusal the next time she comes for tea._
> 
>  _And perhaps something stronger. The ween are mostly gone, after all._
> 
>   
> 

  


~*~

The next Saturday, Hermione arrived an hour early to Minerva's quarters. She was carrying her basket from the library.

"Hello, Minerva," she said cheerfully as she climbed through Aine's portrait. "I was hoping you wouldn't mind if I came a bit early to search for books and journals in your office."

Minerva, still in house-shoes, was a bit non-plussed. She'd not imagined Hermione arriving without an appointment to do this research. But she squared her shoulders ( _not that she even notices my appearance_ ), said, "Of course I don't mind," and led Hermione through the doorway to her private office.

"May I put my basket on your desk?" Hermione asked. At Minerva's nod, she placed the basket in the vacant centre of the desk. She then took out a scroll, presumably containing a list of the subtopics she was researching.

Minerva raised both eyebrows. The scroll was at least a foot long. Clearly, this was a major project for her overly-serious young friend. Just as evident was the fact that Hermione Granger would eventually have had to create the Ponokey even if there had been no students with Latin difficulties.

"We ought to leave the room, or at least get out from between any bookcases and the basket. Pomona nearly got clobbered the other day as the books flew into my basket."

"Any success yet?" Minerva asked as she moved to stand between two bookcases along the wall and Hermione went to the doorway.

"Not really. I'd not realised my particular theme was so...unexplored in the Wizarding world. So I've had to broaden my search to more general terms, and reword my requests to reflect areas of research that I know already exist."

"Fascinating," Minerva commented, for it was. Just as remarkable, though, was the perseverance of this witch. _She's like a Crup with a Muggle's leg._

 _Not the most sensitive of comparisons,_ Minerva chided herself. Unlearning decades of Pureblooded speech patterns still took work.

Her musings were interrupted by the sound of Hermione incanting.

" _Pono omnes literis de hac chria in hoc cophino!_ "

Books began to fly off the shelves. Oddly, the Transfiguration section was undisturbed. What _were_ ransacked, if one would call the effect of books flying off willy-nilly that, were her collections on Psychology (both Magical and Muggle), curses, and philosophy.

And finally a lone book flew from her Transfiguration section: _Grey's Anatomy_.

 _Odd._

Hermione started looking through the books, examining titles and publication dates. She _oohed_ and _ahhed_ at the first editions, stroking their spines reverently and affectionately.

Minerva tried not to feel jealous of the books, though the imagined sensation of those hands travelling up _her_ spine gave her the chills.

"Thanks, Minerva," Hermione said softly. "I'm hoping that by getting all the information from various libraries I'll find the information I need for the line of, well, experimentation I need to do."

"I keep more books in my bedroom," Minerva blurted. _Not smooth, Minerva._ "I tend to read a lot of journals and new texts in my bedroom, so there are likely some more there. You are welcome to search there as well."

Hermione chuckled. "I read in bed, too. Are you sure, though? The spell might catch something you haven't finished reading yet."

"I'm sure. If it looks like a lot of books are going from my bedside table, I can check the basket and remove them, correct?"

Hermione paused at that, her face colouring a bit.

 _What_ is _she researching that would make her blush?_ Minerva thought. _It is truly odd to see her like this. She always seemed so unflappable and fearless as a student and warrior. Then again, I suppose seeing me with my guard down is just as odd for her._

Coming to her decision, Hermione said, "Yes. And you should make sure that I'm not taking anything that you will need during the hols; I plan to spend most of my time working on this project."

"You're not visiting your family and friends for Christmas?"

"I am visiting my parents, but not for long. And I do not want to see my friends 'til this research is complete."

 _That will certainly bear investigating once the tea is on._

Minerva stared at Hermione for a second ( _the scholarly look, all buttoned-down yet rumpled, is inappropriately sexy on her_ ), then led Hermione through the sitting room and to her moderately-sized bedroom. Like her office, this room's walls were lined with bookcases.

Full bookcases.

Hermione's eyes grew huge, and her smile broadened into a disbelieving grin. "You weren't joking when you said you had books in here."

"I may have understated the case a wee bit."

"It's wonderful. I love the smell of books in here – the pages, the dust that you've raised when you pluck a volume from the shelf. This room smells like a _working_ library."

Minerva knew exactly what Hermione meant, though she hadn't before even tried to describe why the room was so comforting.

Hermione placed the basket in the centre of the room, on the carved wood trunk at the foot of Minerva's bed.

"Was this your Hogwarts trunk? It seems rather big."

Minerva smiled. _It's so easy to forget about the generation gap._ "No. My mum had never expected to raise someone like me. I believe she imagined her only daughter having a life more dedicated to romance than education, than career. She'd wanted me to be swept away by true love, and prepared this Hope Chest with household items and a wedding gown.... At least the sheets, blankets and draperies have had a purpose."

Hermione was scuffing that shoe of hers again. Really, that she had visible nervous habits was still a shock for Minerva. "I'm sorry. That was terribly nosy of me."

"It's not terribly nosy; I imagine that Hope Chests are something that you never had to think about; even in the Wizarding world, they had gone out of fashion by your parents' generation." She took a breath. "In any event, I chose to share that much about my life with you – I could have just said it was a Hope Chest and left it at that."

"May I ask a question?" Minerva nodded, so Hermione continued. "What do you keep in there now?"

Minerva felt her own face pinking. "The wedding gown is still there. Both my mum and my nan before her wore it, so I couldn't let it go. Otherwise, it's linens of all sorts for formal or particularly special occasions." _Let's hope her ignorance keeps her from knowing that they still represent hopes, and that her sense of propriety keeps her from asking what sort of special occasions require 'special linens'._

Hermione was nodding as she said, "I might as well go ahead and cast the spell so we can get on with our tea."

 _Thank goodness,_ Minerva thought. _Answering more questions would certainly make us even more uncomfortable._

" _Pono omnes literis de hac chria in hoc cophino!_ " Hermione activated the Ponokey and books, professional journals, _personal_ journals, and letters from Minerva's bedside table zoomed from all corners of the room to Hermione's basket.

Hermione paled. "I—I wasn't expecting anything like that," she said, taking in the huge gaps on the bookcases, the papers halfway-pulled from the table, and the overflowing basket. "Go, pull out anything you don't want me to see. I'll wait in the sitting room." Her face had gone from white to red and her face looked tense, as though she were just barely holding onto her self-control.

Still gobsmacked, Minerva replied, "Fine. Order up some tea and chocolate from the house-elves." This situation called for comestible reinforcements. "And help yourself to something to drink if you wish."

"Thanks," Hermione responded weakly.

As the other woman left the room, Minerva made her way toward the basket. Clearly, whatever Hermione was investigating was also an interest of hers.

She removed the personal journals and correspondence first; all the letters were from former lovers or lesbian friends. _Hm,_ she thought. _Did I pique her interest at the beginning of term?_

The other contents of the basket were no less intriguing: _The Ethics of Magical Influence_ , _Moste Potente Potions, Fourth Edition_ (with thirty-nine new potions and an introduction by Severus Snape), _Witches Loving Witches: A Practical Guide_ , and _Legilimency, Imperius and Hypnosis: The Theory Behind the Practices_.

There were Muggle books, too, mostly novels, but some philosophy: _A History of Sexuality, Vol. I_ , _Discipline and Punish_ , _Oranges Are Not the Only Fruit_ , _The Well of Loneliness_? _Homosexuality and the Politics of Truth_? Goodness, that last had been given to her by a Muggleborn, homophobic alumnus a few years ago. An interesting read, sure, but in combination with the other sources pulled....

 _I don't know whether to be offended or concerned,_ she thought.

Deciding to follow her worry for her friend rather than her sense of betrayal, Minerva stood from the bed on which she'd sat to pore through the basket, squared her shoulders, and re-entered the sitting room. What she saw there tugged at her heart and gut.

The full tea service was spread out on the table, as was a bottle of one of Minerva's finer scotches. Piled on a separate tray were chocolate-dipped strawberries and éclairs, chocolate biscuits, and a chocolate cake covered in chocolate sauce.

On the settee, ignoring the spread as she stared down at her twisting hands, was Hermione. Her expression was morose.

"I suppose you have questions," Hermione said to her knotted fingers.

Minerva snorted. "I suppose we both do."

"I might have fewer, though, since I... already knew about your proclivities," Hermione returned.

Minerva nodded. "Shall I start, then?" At Hermione's assent, she began. "Did you know that nearly half the books that were removed from my bedroom shelves were Muggle novels?"

Hermione shook her head, curls bobbing messily about.

"They are mostly novels about lesbians who have difficulty either accepting their own identity or who are trying to survive a hostile world. A good number of them are what one might call 'coming out stories'."

"I suppose those won't be very helpful, then."

"On the contrary; I think you might want to read those first. They are, in general, rather well-written, and can give you insight as to whether lesbians are actually much different than heterosexual women. I would also recommend The History of Sexuality, Vol. I. Michel Foucault was a Muggleborn like yourself who saw the huge gap between wizarding acceptance of sexual variation and Muggle heteronormativity. The book is, at times, difficult, but I think it is worth the read. It was addressed entirely to Muggles, and the language is thick and easiest to comprehend in the French, if you read that. It's dense, but you are certainly intelligent enough to comprehend it."

Minerva handed Hermione a stack of those Muggle books she considered harmless.

"But I do need to ask you about some of the other books you've chosen. A lot of them are largely about Dark Arts or, at best, Dusk-Arts. Why are you looking at homosexuality and mind-control, Hermione?" Her normally steady brogue cracked. "Were you so disgusted and frightened by my behaviour that you feel the need tae _purge_ me?"

Hermione's response was obscured by anguished coughing as her eyes and nose started to spill over.

"Oh, breathe, child. Put yourself together and then answer me," Minerva said, her voice softening to take most of the bite out of her words. She crouched down, mentally cursing her creaky joints, and handed Hermione a tartan handkerchief.

Hermione took it and looked at it. She emitted a hysterical sound, though whether it was a laugh or a sob Minerva surely couldn't tell.

For several moments, Minerva watched Hermione take deep heaving breaths, wiping her eyes and nose as necessary, until the sobs passed into hiccups.

"I – _hic!_ – wasn't – _hic!_ – trying-to-purge-you-Professor, -- _hic!_ " she managed to get out. She wheezed again as she took in air. " _Hic!_ I was trying – _hic!_ – to cure – _hic!_ – myself." She tried to steady her breath, breathing in and out slowly. Minerva could see her lips moving as she counted to three with each pull or push of air.

Watching Hermione gave her time to formulate a response. Taking her own deep breath, she reached for Hermione's free hand and stroked it gently.

"Ye want to cure ye'self of homosexual feelings?" Minerva paraphrased, wanting to make sure she'd got Hermione's meaning correct.

Hermione nodded. "I-If I could combine some sort of reverse-Amortentia with a—a mind spell," she gasped, "maybe I could change my attractions," another wheezing breath, "and not have to worry about being different anymore."

The pain in Hermione's voice was so sharp that it pierced and twisted in Minerva's own heart. It _was_ always the Muggleborns who tortured themselves about attraction to, and love of, their own gender.

She let go of the sobbing witch's hand and took a seat beside her, turning so she could face Hermione. "Did ye jus' ken that ye like the bonny lasses?" Minerva asked, her speech finally slipping fully into the almost-musical lilt of her mother tongue as she let all her defences fall.

Hermione nodded again.

"Och, an' noo yer up to high doh."

"I'm sorry?" asked Hermione.

Minerva slowed down just a bit. "You are a bit hysterical, my dear." As she continued in this personal conversation, though, she allowed her brogue to emerge more. "Talk wi' me. Tell me aboot i'tall."

"But I don't want to trouble you... and it's a long story... and a little private."

"Hermione Granger. She that winna be counselled, canna be helped. I canna make a promise, but I'm not deef."

"Okay. Ah, Professor?"

"Aye?"

"Do you always go full-on Scottish when you're talking with friends?"

Minerva took a moment to slow down. "No. When I am upset, or angry, or too caught up in a conversation to worry about the 'Queen's English'." She paused. "Did it disturb ye?"

Hermione chuckled as she ran the back of her hand across her eyes. "Nae, as you might say. But I did notice it – enough that I paid more attention to what you were saying than to my own self-pity."

Hermione's grim smile spoke a world of recriminations. Minerva nodded, and poured each of them a finger or three of scotch. She handed one glass to Hermione before responding.

"So gae it oot."

"Alright." She closed her mind a moment. Minerva could nearly see her sifting through her mind's files for the beginning of the story.

"The proper beginning is, of course, right after the War ended. I had _Obliviated_ my parents and sent them off to Australia to be safe. When I got back to them, I managed to restore many of their memories – I'd, er, illegally Pensieved a lot of them after a _Stupefy_ – and bring them back to England so they could resume their work and their lives. They each had to spend some time going to treatment at St Mungo's, too.

"As you know, I skipped my last year of Hogwarts, first because we were on the run, and then because I was helping my parents re-acclimatise. I lived with them, and studied on my own. I took both the N.E.W.T.'s and A-levels so that I could qualify for Wizarding and Muggle university. I took degrees from both, commuting because I wanted to continue to spend all that time with my parents. I'd missed being a teenager with them, and then put them in danger, messed with their memories... I just wanted to keep seeing them so that they would know that I really did care." She threw back the last of her scotch and beckoned for another, which Minerva gladly served.

"Did ye think they didn't realise?"

"I didn't _know_. I don't think that after their memories were restored they truly understood how much danger they'd been in and only saw that this woman who claimed to be their daughter, and gave them strange magical memories that were supposed to be their own to back it up, taking them from their home in Melbourne and meddling with their lives.

"Anyway, yes, they got to know me, and I think they believe, at least in their heads, that what I told them is true. They care for me." She sighed. "But I don't feel the warmth I did before I sent them away. I don't know that they feel in their bones that I'm their daughter."

"Och, _Hermione_ ," Minerva murmured, reaching over to take Hermione's hand again as a show of support. "I'm so sorry that's how it sorted."

"You and I, both," Hermione replied bitterly, letting Minerva squeeze her hand and continue to hold it. She let out a huge breath as Minerva's thumb stroked her palm. "So, I was staying with them and studying while Ronald and Harry were training to be Aurors. Ron and I dated for a few years. When I finally left my parents', I moved in with him. And that was a disaster, too."

"How so?"

"He's just not that... _curious_. Nor does he have any sense of keeping an orderly house. Flat, even. So after University, whilst getting started at the Department for Magical Creatures, I was terribly excited about a great many grand ideas and plans, imagining ways to combine my Magical and Muggle educations to better Wizarding society. And he nodded along, but it was clear that he wasn't as interested in what I had to say as he was in the Cannons' league position.

"Mostly, he was interested in more... _amorous_ activities, which is how I discovered how much passion I didn't have for him anymore. If I ever had done."

Her head fell to the back of the sofa, curls cascading behind it. She was beginning to shudder again, so Minerva shifted so they were sitting side-by-side, hands still joined but now in Hermione's lap.

Hermione dropped her head to rest on Minerva's bony shoulder. "I didn't leave him right away, either," she confessed in a small voice. "I didn't want to be alone, and Ron was more family than my own parents at that point. At least _he_ remembered what I was like at eleven."

Minerva reached over to stroke Hermione's hair; Hermione buried her face in Minerva's robes for a minute, then returned to her resting position.

 _Och, the lass lost all her loves, all her_ family _, after the war._ "How terrible to be losing your family just when you thought all was safe," she said. "That is, assuming that you lost Mr Weasley as your family."

"No, just as my lover. We both eventually admitted we weren't satisfied. I moved into a flat in Muggle London. We kept in touch, though – he, Harry, Gin, Luna, Neville... I'm always invited to parties and dinners with them.

"Then, this spring, I joined a Muggle Feminist Book Club."

 _Aha!_ Thought Minerva, as she suspected that this would bring them to the crux of the matter. "Did you enjoy it?"

"Of course! I hadn't read much on the topic, or much Muggle literature in general, after all. And somehow, Muggle novels still seem more... _plausible_ to me. I can never decide whether the magic in witch novels is real or fanciful."

"Indeed," chuckled Minerva, trying to keep from jostling the head on her shoulder. "I would imagine that having intelligent women to discuss the material with was also a benefit, was it not?"

"Well, yes – I did like having progressive-minded conversation partners. They were so witty, most of them! And they had such insights as to the psyches of women, men, and the society which rears us."

Minerva chuckled once more. "I rather meant in terms of finding them attractive," she said, lowly so as to soothe rather than accuse.

"Oh." Hermione reflected for a brief moment. "No. Mostly no. I would feel more alive when I was with these women and immediately after, but not so much, er, _excited_ by them."

Minerva took the liberty of smoothing the loose tendrils from Hermione's face. "You said 'mostly', dear. What was the exception?" They were finally closing in on the chief problem.

"Mm," Hermione hummed in unconscious satisfaction with Minerva's comforting gestures. "We read a book around Mayday. It was American. It was about this woman who called herself a he-she and the life she was living in the 1960's and '70's. And there were these descriptions of her getting close with other women... Nothing really _smutty_ , it was all very oblique, in a way. That is, it wasn't, well, sexually explicit, even though there was explicit talk _about_ sex." Hermione paused, and Minerva marvelled at the effort the young witch took to be precise. "It affected me. I'd never found something I'd _read_ arousing before."

Minerva thought about that for a moment, the silence growing heavier as she did.

"Erotic, then?"

"Oh, _yes_ ," breathed Hermione.

"And was this discussed in your book group at all?"

This time, Minerva felt Hermione's face grow red against her shoulder and neck. The younger woman shifted uncomfortably. "Ah, yes. But not as much as the politics."

"Which ought to have been right up your alley, Hermione Granger."

Hermione choked up a laugh. "Well, yes, except I was having a sexual identity crisis, you see. And one of the women could tell, and we talked over coffee..."

 _Och, fook i'tall,_ thought Minerva, and moved the arm Hermione was using as a cushion around her shoulders in a hug.

The hot tears seeped into Minerva's blouse as Hermione continued, shuddering. "I was turned on by the book, and turned on by the woman, and I knew that I was a lesbian, but God _damn_ that wasn't part of the plan."

Minerva stroked her hair again. "But was anything in the plan working out?"

"Not so much that you'd notice," Hermione conceded, sniffling. "But this... If it's inborn, like magic, then it's something I can't just turn _off_ , I can't control, and that's not acceptable. So I thought I would see whether magic could change it – convince me to love men, or to love _a_ man. Because I don't want anything more to separate us."

"I haven't followed your logic there, Hermione."

"Being homosexual is just another way I'm different from my parents, Minerva. I can't afford that, not with our relationship so shaky to begin with." The tears were slowing, as were Hermione's ragged inhalations. "I've got magic, they're Muggles; we don't share the same memories; I haven't even had what they consider to be a proper education or intelligible work! Being able to have a nice, _normal_ family life, with grandbabies for them, was one of the few things I thought we could still have in common."

Minerva's grip tightened around Hermione's shoulder once more before she pulled back to look her former student in the eye.

"Ye canna change it," Minerva said softly. "The magic won' let ye."

Hermione's lip began to tremble faster again.

"But even the Muggle lesbians have their own babies now, and witches have been managing for years upon years. You can have your family, Hermione. Only it'll take a bit o'planning."

This turned out to be less comforting than Minerva had sought.

A sob tore itself through Hermione's breath, sounding like it was breaking everything it passed. "But I don't think I even want to have babies!" she cried, the volume of her voice increasing with each syllable. "So not only will I not settle down with a man, but even – even –" she took a heaving breath as Minerva pulled her close and rubbed her back in soothing circles. "Even if I settle down with a woman, I might not have a family."

Minerva rocked Hermione as she cried. In situations like this, comfort was more useful than words. "Shh, all will be well, all will be well..." she repeated in a flowing rhythm until Hermione was able to slow her breath down and wipe her own face.

"Thanks," Hermione said, her voice rough. She curled back into Minerva's embrace, head leaning against the other witch's shoulder once more.

"A bit better for getting it out?"

Hermione nodded. "I've been rather anxious about all this, you know."

"I hadn't noticed," Minerva said dryly.

"Oh hush!" Hermione said without rancour, though she sat up quickly to look at Minerva. "Trust you to use a sharp tongue to bring me back to reality."

"Oh, are you in reality now?" Minerva asked, taking Hermione's hand again to soften her words.

Hermione sniffed, though more in comment than in need. "Closer than I've been in awhile, I suppose. Thanks for... well, holding me, I guess. I miss getting to touch my friends."

Minerva nodded. _She_ had never been what one might call touchy-feely but she had seen Hermione's generation grow up, all full of embraces for one another.

"Can we continue the discussion, Hermione? I still have some concerns." Minerva tried not to sound as tentative as she felt. She didn't want Hermione to decide to exclude her from this rarefied atmosphere of candour, but likewise she didn't want to leave Hermione thinking that her desires were unnatural or considered poor in magical society.

Hermione nodded and tilted her body so that she was facing Minerva again; Minerva mourned the loss of the other woman's reassuring warmth and weight.

"The problem you have with your lesbian desire has nothing to do with childbearing, does it?" Minerva stated more than asked, but left the space open for Hermione to answer.

"Mm," Hermione chewed her lower lip as she thought. Minerva could _see_ her shifting into analytic mode. "No, not really. I didn't want to start having babies at all when I was with Ron, either. It's never been my priority; I feel like my work is how I'll leave my mark on the world."

Minerva nodded, the description feeling familiar. "That's a fair assessment," she said. "And it's still true that to a large degree witches need to specialise in either career or family, at least at your age. Ye haven't yet made enough of a name for yourself to quit the work an' keep the admiration."

Hermione nodded. "Yes! And... Minerva, I _want_ the admiration. All my life, if I haven't had anything really special, at least I've been clever and good with book-learning. And spell modification. But all of that, it's brought me a lot of attention, and I _like_ feeling that people appreciate my work or are impressed by my savvy." She stared at her hands. "It's gratifying."

"Och, look at me," Minerva said. "Wanting to be admired for your talent and skills is nothing to be ashamed of. If it were, then nobody would teach!"

Hermione giggled. "Like Lockhart!"

At that, Minerva groaned. "Please, Hermione, dinna tell me that you were one of the silly girls trying to get his attention."

"Well," Hermione said, "maybe a little. But I was twelve at the time, mind. And he had done – or said he'd done – so many brilliant and brave things... Surely you could understand why students would want his attention, even to the point of being a bit silly."

"A bit, lass, a bit. I'm only glad you've grown out of it."

"As am I!" Hermione said. She leaned back onto Minerva's outstretched arm. "Thanks. I suppose I _was_ getting a bit hysterical there."

"It is heavy, this weight of family expectations."

Hermione nodded. "Only, I don't know what my parents' expectations are, anymore. I think if I had never sent them away they would be fine with it."

"The babies or liking women?" Minerva asked for clarification.

"Either. Both," Hermione said. "They were rather liberal-minded, after all. Old-style Labour and such."

Minerva had only a half-idea what Hermione meant, but enough of one to ask, "Why are ye so nervous, then?"

Still leaning back, Hermione closed her eyes and sighed. When she opened them she said, "I'm not sure. I think I wish things could just _be_ , rather than having to re-orient my life to look at women, and having to update all the important people in my life."

"You're not worried about that, are you?'

"A little bit. I mean, I know everyone was fine with Seamus and Dean, and George and Lee, but... these were my friends and the Weasleys I'm talking about, not co-workers or new acquaintances."

"Hermione," Minerva said, then paused. "You missed the sex education course in your seventh year, didn't you?"

Hermione snorted. "I didn't have a seventh year, and there wasn't a N.E.W.T. in it, so..."

Minerva sighed. "Yet one more thing sacrificed to the Greater Good," she said bitterly. "Now, please listen to me for a minute."

Hermione drew forward to look Minerva in the face. "Alright. But why are you making such a big deal? I mean, I read about how babies were made when I was in primary school, and magical differences in reproduction in this library when I was twelve. And, ah... I've done some research about how women like to do it," she said with a rather becoming blush.

"Because the sex ed you missed would have highlighted why we have a distinct lack of homophobia within the Magical community."

"But I know that kids teased – "

"Och, yes, children will tease, won't they? But in this case the prejudice is largely brought in by the Muggleborns, I am afraid to say. As are the names, though I have to say, I've often fancied calling myself an old dyke."

At that, Hermione laughed openly. "Okay. Please tell me what I seem to have missed." She leant back to listen.

"To put it briefly," Minerva said, using her lecturing voice, "it has long – and by 'long' I mean so far back as wizards and witches have been writing about sex magic and magical theory – been acknowledged that there is much harm inherent in persecution due to sexual preference. This is both because of the need for magical communities to hang together for protection and because it was found that repressing one's sexual desires and sexual energy would, after a time, stunt one's magic. Many of the most imaginative witches and wizards have had very imaginative sex lives. Arranged marriages tend to take this into account, either by assuring that the heir gets at least to choose the gender of his or her potential betrothed or by means of a 'fidelity without monogamy' clause in the marriage contract." She paused. "I suppose you've been generally horrified by the laissez-faire attitude toward adultness here, as well?"

"Adultery," Hermione corrected, "and yes. It just seems so _wrong_ that people just up and form new relationships while still claiming to love their spouses."

"Such affairs of the heart, my dear, are nearly always negotiated with the bonded partner or spouse before they go further than a flirtation."

"Oh." Hermione took a moment to consider all that. "And does that mean, then, that a bonding is not only magically different from a marriage, but somewhat superior?"

"Not exactly, though you're right that they are different and that a magic sexual bonding is treated with great reverence," she said. "The two are different, but both are valid and honoured as family bonds. Not everybody wants to go through bonding rites – and there are several to choose among – and one can live a perfectly lovely life without a magical bond."

"Then why did you make such a big deal about access to sex one enjoys?"

"Hermione, sexual energy _does_ exist outside of sex magic, you know. And that energy, that _erotic energy_ is well twined with one's sexuality. It's why children don't begin magical education until the onset of puberty, and don't reach their majority until the age at which most have completed their sexual maturation."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. "No wonder you were so hurt by my rejection, then."

Minerva nodded. "I thought that you had decided I was too old, or that romance amongst colleagues would be a bad idea, or that it was otherwise about me, because I _knew_ we had been flirting, at least I had and not been rebuffed. So I assumed you liked women, but didn't like me." She felt Hermione shift again.

"Well, let me disabuse you of that notion," she said.

Hermione leant in and placed the sweetest kiss Minerva could remember on her lips.

~*~

 

>   
> 
> 
> _30th December, 2006_
> 
>  _The 'wee lass', as Albus insists on calling her when he speaks to me, returns tomorrow so that we might 'ring in the new year' together. It's still strange, of course, but I am glad that 'olde acquaintance' was not forgot in this case. Very glad._
> 
>  _She sent an owl on Boxing Day, letting me know when she was returning and that her parents had reacted to her news with love and generosity, as had Harry and Ronald. Though she'd not told any of them whom she was seeing._
> 
>  _I hope she feels free to share that with them soon. We agreed that we would tell those closest to us that we were walking out together (as we used to say!) before letting it become public. It seemed sensible. Then again, I'd hoped that we would each do so over the holidays so that we might walk hand-in-hand in Hogsmeade in the time before the children returned. I must remind myself – frequently! – that not only is seeing me new to her, but so is seeing a woman. I must remain patient whilst she works all this out._
> 
>  _The two of us are going to spend some more time 'sorting through' the Hogwarts library. Hermione insists that we reorganise the books according to a Muggle system called "Dewy decimals" that she shall modify for magical topics and texts. I suppose that whoever thought up the name thought that organising the texts was refreshing._
> 
>  _Being together is so heady! I just want to touch her, to kiss her. We were less than utterly discreet between when we first kissed and when she left to visit her parents' home and the Burrow. I begged off on my own invitation to the Weasleys' this year; the last thing I needed was to have Molly take me aside to ask me to support 'the poor girl' regarding this change in identity and practice._
> 
>  _She sent an owl anyway._
> 
>  _But I am hopeful, for the first time in many a year, that I may have found a woman with whom I can spend a goodly number of my days. I am lucky, indeed, that such a lovely young woman is interested in an old broad like me!_
> 
>  _And, I must admit, a bit smug that she finally admitted it._
> 
>  _Thank Merlin Hermione finds that one of my endearing traits._
> 
>   
> 

 

  
**  
_~*~FIN~*~_   
**   



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